


One hell of a boat ride

by ChocoNut



Series: Jaime's awkward problems [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A little more than a boner, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Could be canon compliant also, F/M, Horny Jaime Lannister, Jaime's Awkward Boner, Missing Scene, Season 2, Sexual Tension, and a bit more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26122648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: Poor Jaime suffers more than a boner when he watches the wench row them across the river.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Jaime's awkward problems [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1537828
Comments: 12
Kudos: 72





	One hell of a boat ride

About a dozen insults crowded the tip of his tongue, itching to lash out at her, but Jaime gulped them down, reluctantly admitting to himself that he had never seen a woman like this.

He watched with grudging admiration as she rowed away, determined and relentless, and even with the sun beating down on them, she showed no signs of weariness. “Unchain me, wench, and I can help you row,” he offered, twisting his wrist, aching to break free. “It is far from chivalrous of me to sit by and watch while my lady does all the hard work.”

“I’m not _your lady_ ,” she shot back, eyes as venomous as a viper’s sting. “And chivalry is the last thing I would expect from a man like you.”

“There are no men like me—”

“Of course,” she agreed, delighted to lace her tone with all the spite she could manage. “None as dishonourable and disreputable as you.” 

“Sometimes the stories you’re fed might be farther from the truth than you can imagine,” he mumbled, stung by her retort. “I thought you to be wise in your judgement, and sensible enough not to—”

“Enough,” she fumed, angry sparks gushing forth from those unbelievably charming eyes.

Jaime decided to let go and observe, to take in the infuriating, but remarkable woman he was saddled with for the weeks to come. As he watched her, toned arms rowing, her chest arching out and pulling in, he began to drift away, wondering what she might be like under the shapeless metal she’d donned.

He watched the sweat trickle down her brow, traveling down her freckled cheek to come to rest on those full lips. He caught sight of another run stream running down her neck and disappearing into her armour—drifting further and further, as he pictured it in his mind, before it descended enough to kiss her breast. A grunt of mild exhaustion escaped her lips, and something inside him came to life. She took a deep breath, heaving and panting, slowing down, then picking up again, and he felt an inexplicable instinct to seize the oar from her hands and pin her down. 

With a rough swipe of her knuckles against her mouth, she wiped away her distraction, yet, there still remained a stray droplet that had escaped her effort, sitting snugly at the corner of her mouth, begging to be kissed away, screaming for his thirsty mouth to quench his desire with it. Jaime’s lips twitched and so did other parts of him. What would it be like to suck the bloody thing off her? To suck away more than that, to sink his teeth into those thick lips, to snake his tongue in to conquer hers?

He saw himself planting a row of kisses along the inside of those thighs, up, up, further—

His tongue sliding between her legs to taste her, to drink in her wetness, her— 

_No,_ he resolved to himself, shaking himself out of this ridiculous stupor. Never before did anyone but Cersei have an effect this intense on him. He wanted to have nothing to do with this wench who despised him. 

He wanted these sensations to go away, to leave him at peace— 

She made a noise, something like a husky “hmmph,” and Jaime once again slipped into the realm of forbidden thoughts, his feeble resolve of a moment ago crumbling to bits.

_Fuck!_

He shut his eyes, hoping if he stopped staring at her, it would make it all go away. 

But then— 

“We’ve reached,” she barked, snapping him out of it again. Throwing him a strange look, she pulled over to the shore. “What the hell are you gaping at?” she called out impatiently, once she’d hopped over to the land. “Do you need an invitation to get up here?”

Aroused beyond control, he leaped out onto the hard ground and faced the other side, not wanting to look at her as he waited for her to tie the boat to a tree. At least, he didn’t have to watch her row a boat again.

“You were staring back there, Kingslayer. Admit it.”

Something in that tone—that it wasn’t complaining or accusatory, made him want to confront her, and when he turned to face her, her eyes were speaking the same language of lust. “So what if I was?” Emboldened by the uninhibited desire dripping from every pore of her, he approached her. “You have no idea what you’ve been doing to me,” he said hoarsely, hard enough to explode. “I want you, Brienne.”

She glanced down at his growing bulge, the hunger in her eyes sending a chill down his spine. “I can see that.” Her jaw tightened and he could see her body tense. Without giving him a chance to answer, she untied his breeches and yanked them down, calloused fingertips brushing his skin, goosebumps springing up wherever she touched him. 

When she reached out and wrapped those fingers around his shaft, he exhaled severely, bursting into flames at her touch. She gripped him and his mouth fell open again, gulping down all the air he could. She caressed and squeezed him, balls to tip, leaving no inch untouched. This was it. Ever since he’d seen her first that night in his cage, he had, deep down, felt something—something far more primal than he’d felt for any woman. 

He groaned, spewing out incoherent curses as she began to stroke him, her eyes wide and fixated upon his cock. His knees shook, and he had to summon all his strength to keep his balance, the sensations almost too much to bear. Her pace increased, and a triumphant smile, she had for him. She knew he was under her spell, that she could do anything and everything she wanted.

“I can do better than this, Kingslayer,” she slyly declared, then dropping to her knees, she slipped the head of his cock into her mouth, her eyes still deeply lodged into his. Her lips closed around him, and he felt her tongue lash out and slide hungrily across his rigid length. He staggered, but she wrapped a strong arm around his thighs and steadied him back into position.

“Fuck, wench,” he growled, when she backed off, then plunged into him again, the wind knocked out of his lungs. His vision began to blur, he could barely stand. He could do no more than gasp and grunt as her head began to bob, sliding more of his shaft between her thick lips.

He managed to look down at her. 

The sun shone down upon her, bouncing off her golden crown. Her face, flushed and sweaty, eyes, bright and shining, those luscious lips working furiously on him, her chest bobbing back and forth, her strong thighs—it was almost as if— 

_She could almost be a beauty. Sensual. Desirable..._

Her body rocked back and forth with every motion, and he caught sight of her hand disappearing to her waist to undo her breeches. When she had managed to push them down to her knees, she reached between her legs, fingers circling feverishly, stroking and massaging. She sighed into his cock, the burning gush of her breath, sending him to the edge. Her gluttonous slurps and throaty noises shot straight up his groin, and she pushed him to his limits, rubbing herself harder as he thrust into her mouth, her hand and his cock swaying to the same beat.

Grabbing the back of her neck, he jerked her away, taking her by surprise. “I, too, can do better than this, wench.” 

She stopped for a moment, then pulled away, and her cock still in her other hand, she dragged him down to her height. “On your back,” she demanded, and shoving him roughly to the ground she got up, the golden patch between her legs as desperate as his aching erection. 

“As my lady wishes.” 

Ever since they had set out together, surprise after surprise, Jaime found himself coming upon. Every minute he was learning something new about her. And about himself. That he would like to be torn apart by a commanding woman ravishing him in the middle of nowhere was an outcome of her raw and demanding tone. Soaring with anticipation, he lay back, his glistening cock pointing to the skies. 

She discarded her boots and kicked away her breeches, and naked beneath the waist, her dripping cunt beckoning him to join it, she squatted down on him. “Careful there,” he warned. She was a virgin and he was quite huge. He didn’t want to hurt her. “I don't want you—”

The rest of his warning faded away into a gasp when she took him in, her walls gripping him tight, sucking him deeper without him even moving. Blue eyes went wide, and her lips parting in a silent _oh,_ she sank into him, absorbing a good deal of him.

A puff of breath skidded passed her lips. If this was pain, it was gone the next instant, her eyes shifting between shock, pleasure and frustration as she began to move, again and again, pacing herself, gliding up and down on his lap, each time farther than the last. Each time, a whimper of delight or a grunt for more, he was met with, her pussy eagerly accepting him, drawing him in him there, squeezing and milking his cock with each thrust.

One hand clamped on her thigh and the other reaching around to grasp her ass, he pulled her forward, forcefully, and she came down with the same force, bucking and lurching, her thick thighs slapping against his, up and down, back and forth, like he was another mount she wanted to tame. 

Her pounding became more insistent, less drawn out, and more needy and intense. 

_Fuck, yes!_

This was pure animal lust, deliciously carnal, unlike anything he’d shared with Cersei. 

She rode him like a woman possessed, possessing him, fast and mad, wild and furious.

And he wanted more.

More of this incredible woman who, with her womanly moans and wanton screams, was beginning to get to him—to _all_ of him. 

“Jaime,” she cried, throwing her head back, and squeezing her eyes shut tightly, she let out a loud, guttural scream. She bent onto him, frantic and helpless, and buried her face into his rags, her nails digging into his shoulders, gripping tightly.

Her gasps and strangled cries continued, muffled now by his chest, and he felt her body start to shake and convulse. Her climax, beginning to peak and crash into her, he slid his hand between them, stroking and stimulating her further, abetting her release. When lightning struck, she rocked violently above him, then sagged into him, coming to rest atop his body, her lips brushing his neck, one hand on his chest, her fingers clenched around a handful of his clothes, the other tightly curled around his shoulder. 

With one last heave of his hips, he gripped her hard and jerked himself against her. He stiffened, every sensation heightened, and with a loud groan of her name, he felt himself spill deep inside her.

Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close, panting into her neck as she breathed heavily against him, both of them basking in the calm after the storm. When it passed, she looked up, blue eyes, blissfully satiated, meeting his, and unable to resist an urge, he leaned over to kiss those tempting lips— 

“We’ve reached.”

Jaime opened his eyes to find himself on the boat with the wench glaring down at him.

“If you think you can sleep your way through this journey while I do all the hard work—”

“I offered to row,” he yawned, stretching himself, still reeling from the effect of what he had been through. “You refused to—”

“That’s enough.” Just like in his dream she steered the boat and leapt onshore. Hands on hips, she waited as he slowly shuffled back to movement. “What are you still gaping at? Do you need an invitation, Kingslayer?” 

“Jaime,” he muttered in correction, recalling the passion with which she’d uttered it in his dream.

Ignoring him, she pulled the boat to one side and began fastening it to a tree. “Be quick about it. We don’t have all day.”

He jumped out and put some distance between them, frustrated even more now by the state of affairs between his legs.

“Come on,” she called, tugging at the rope binding him to her when he lingered by the shore. “I’m afraid if we stand here more than necessary, you might drift off to sleep again.”

_I wish._

But he said nothing, and for a while, they trudged along in silence, him ahead of her, as always.

“You were moaning and twitching in your sleep,” she said, after a while. “That must have been some dream you had.”

“It was, wench,” he wholeheartedly agreed, only wishing he’d undressed her fully before they’d fucked. How he craved for a glimpse of those teats beneath the armour! “It was one hell of a dream.” 

“Your sister, no doubt,” she guessed, bitterness spreading across the sun-kissed face.

 _I dreamed of you,_ Jaime wanted to admit, but kept his mouth shut, instead, and nodded, letting her assume whatever she wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't help putting him through this agony ;) Thank you for reading and do share your comments!


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